


Billy

by Salambo06



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Drug Use, Getting Together, Kid Mycroft, Kidlock, M/M, Mummy Holmes centric, Nightmares, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 04:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8518327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salambo06/pseuds/Salambo06
Summary: Inspired by this post“Mummy, one day, I’m going to marry a boy like Dad! Someone who is nice and handsome and loves me very much!”Violet felt something warm and overwhelming fill her chest and she walked to her son, leaning down to kiss his temple and whispered, “I’m sure you will.” She kissed him again. “And he’ll be the luckiest boy in the world”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Heather](http://snogbox1.tumblr.com/) for her job as a beta !  
> [My Tumblr](http://johnlockfulfillment.tumblr.com/)  
> 

Violet Holmes stared down at her son, asleep and warm, in her arms. She smiled, brushing one finger across his soft cheek, as he stirs in his sleep. She leant down, placing a tender kiss on his head and breathed him in. 

_ William Sherlock Scott Holmes _ .

“You’re going to be so loved,” she whispered, feeling William’s nose rub against her chin. “So very loved.”

She heard, before she could see him, Mycroft’s rapid footsteps in the hallway. Her smile widening, Violet leant back against the bedframe, eyes finding the bedroom door and she waited for the three, almost shy, knocks. “Come in,” she called.

Mycroft’s small figure appeared as he opened the door, his wild ginger hair falling in front of his eyes, and Violet made a mental note to cut his hair soon. She watched in silence as Mycroft closed the door, approaching the bed quickly before climbing on. “Is he awake?” he asked, peering at William.

“Not yet,” Violet replied, letting Mycroft sit next to her.

“Surely he will wake at some point,” Mycroft remarked, eyes still fixed on William. “Baby needs to eat.”

“True,” Violet replied, “But they do sleep a lot.”

Mycroft nodded, looking perplexed at his brother for a while. Despite being only seven years old, Mycroft had been spending days locked in his room during Violet’s pregnancy, reading every book available on babies and their natural development. Their dinners had consisted of Mycroft asking question after question about his soon to be baby brother for the past nine months.

“What is it, My?”

Mycroft seemed to hesitate for a moment before saying, “I am his big brother.” He looked up at her and Violet nodded. “All of my readings showed that I will have to protect him.”

Violet smiled, her free hand coming to brush Mycroft’s hair off his eyes, “Something tells me he’s going to need you a lot.”

Mycroft beamed at her, his own hand closing around one of William’s.

* * *  * *

“And then the bee flew back outside the window and never came back,” William finished explaining, eating his toast slowly. “Why didn’t it come back, Mummy?”

“Bees aren’t pets, Billy,” Violet smiled, sitting in front of him at the table. She put down the newspaper and leant back against her chair. “You can’t make them stay against their will.”

“Redbeard is a pet,” William replied, looking far too serious for a five year old boy. “But not bees.”

“Exactly,” Violet smiled. “Some people, they’re called beekeepers, keep bees in hives, so they can produce honey, but they are still free to come and go.”

William looked up at her, eyes wide and a hopeful smile on his lips, “Can I be a beekeeper when I grow up?”

“Of course you can, Billy, if you finish your toast first!”

William rolled his eyes but bit down enthusiastically into his toast, fingers playing with the book next to him on the table. Violet had caught her sons, two weeks ago, reading together in Mycroft's room. Apparently Mycroft had decided to teach William how to read before leaving for school in September. Ever since that time , she hadn’t seen her youngest son without a book in his hand.

“Careful or you’ll get jam on your book,” she warned, nodding at William’s stained fingers before standing up and going to wash her mug.

She could still hear Sherlock eating, much faster now, and for a moment, they both remained silent. It had been surprising to find out just how much William liked to question everything. He could spend hours asking question after question, most of the time to Mycroft who seemed to liked to answer them just as much. Violet and Siger had stopped counting the numbers of dinners they had spent listening to their sons talking about the solar system or the latest experiment they were working on. Violet already dreaded the moment William would have to go away for school too.

“Mummy,” William suddenly asked, “Dad loves you very much, right?”

Violet smiled, shutting the water off and turning around to face him, “Yes, he does,” she replied, leaning back against the counter.

William looked back at his toast, almost finished now, and for a moment Violet thought he wasn’t going to elaborate more about the matter. But as she was about to turn back, William raised his head and declared with too much seriousness again, “Mummy, one day, I’m going to marry a boy like Dad! Someone who is nice and handsome and loves me very much!”

Violet felt something warm and overwhelming fill her chest and she walked to her son, leaning down to kiss his temple and whispered, “I’m sure you will.” She kissed him again. “And he’ll be the luckiest boy in the world”

* * *  * *

“I have an announcement,” Willam declared one evening.

Violet had gone to get him and his brother for the winter holiday earlier this morning, and William had been silent ever since. It was his first year away from home, and Violet had been waiting from them both to come back for the holidays for months.

“What is it, Billy?” Siger asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.

“From now on, I want to be called Sherlock.”

Violet put her fork down, frowning at her husband who stared back at her. “But-”

“Everyone at school already calls me Sherlock,” William cut in. “Even Mycroft.”

Violet turned to her older son, “You do?”

“He asked me to back in September,” Mycroft replied, continuing to eat.

Violet looked back at William, no, at Sherlock. “Why?”

Sherlock seemed to consider the question for a moment, “I thought about it, and William is much too common. Sherlock is unique.”

Violet caught Mycroft smiling next to her, and even Siger let out a small laugh, “It is quite unique,” he said.

Violet breathed out deeply, her eyes finding Sherlock’s again, and the doubt she read there brought her back to what actually mattered. “If that’s what you want, then yes.”

Sherlock smiled back at her, and Violet could swore she saw him unclench his fingers around his fork and knife.

* * *  * *

Violet found Mycroft in his room. Her son had grown up much too fast, if you asked her, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had heard him laugh. Mycroft was engrossed in some book, papers all over his desk and the faint sound of a violin playing on the stereo. Making sure to knock, Violet waited for Mycroft to finish his page before going to sit on his bed.

“What is it, Mummy?”

Violet considered her question carefully, “Is everything alright with your brother?”

Mycroft frowned, turning on his chair to face her properly, “Why do you ask?”

“He’s been quiet ever since he came back,” she replied, unable to hide the worry in her voice. “He spent the past week locked in his room. He usually spends the summer studying bees or the plants in the garden.”

“Maybe he’s working on a new experiment,” Mycroft replied, “You know what he’s like when he finds something new to study.”

Violet nodded, clasping her hands on her lap. Mycroft was probably right. “Did he let you in?” She asked, “In his room, I mean. Ever since you two arrived home?”

Mycroft shook his head, “I haven’t had the opportunity or need to visit him in his room yet.”

“Yes, right.”

They remained silent for long seconds, too many questions dancing in her head. She wasn’t used to Sherlock being so distant. Ever since he had gone to school, it always took an entire week for Sherlock to tell them all the experiments he’d done, the data he’d collected, the crimes he’d studied during his year away.

A week ago, Sherlock had gone straight up to his room and barely came out since.

“I’m certain he’s fine,” Mycroft said, startling her.

Violet looked back at him, “And at school. Is he fine at school, My?”

“Yes,” Mycroft lied and Violet pretended not to notice.

* * *  * *

Siger turned off the light, coming to lie next to her, and Violet snuggled closer. She closed her eyes, trying not think about the two empty bedrooms in the house. She couldn’t remember the last time they had spent an entire summer without having Mycroft and Sherlock coming to visit at least once. She understood, of course. Mycroft was busy, far too busy, to take days off. He had called, had apologized. But Sherlock…

“Violet,” Siger whispered, “Stop worrying.”

“I can’t,” Violet sighed, “It’s been months, Siger.”

“I know, dear,” Siger breathed out, wrapping one arm around her waist. “He must be busy. He said he wanted to start working on crime scenes, right?”

Violet nodded. Sherlock was brilliant and she had no doubt he would find his place out there. Surely the Yard would notice, would ask for his help. He would be fine. Just fine.

“Why hasn’t he called? He knows we worry about him, doesn’t he?”

Violet felt Siger’s smile against her temple, “He’s Sherlock, dear, he simply forgets.”

“Maybe we should go to London,” she whispered, “Go see Mycroft’s office, visit Sherlock’s new flat, see our boys.”

Siger pulled away just enough to look down at her, “We’ll call Mycroft tomorrow, see if he isn’t too busy. Okay?”

Violet smiled, “Yes,” she kissed him. “Okay.”

* * *  * *

Sherlock is a drug addict.

“He’s been like this for the past three years,” Mycroft continued to explain, sitting in front of them. “I’ve tried everything, kept it hidden from everyone, but nothing seems to be working.”

Sherlock, her little boy, is a drug addict.

“I can’t take care of him anymore, can’t protect him any longer.”

Sherlock.

“He’s getting out of rehab tomorrow. He will probably fall back into drugs within five days.”

A drug addict.

“He always does.”

_ Her little boy. _

“I’m sorry.”

* * *  * *

“Let me out!” Sherlock yelled from his room, fists slamming against the door. “Now!”

Violet leant against the wall, closing her eyes and breathing out deeply. Sherlock had been back home for an entire week now, directly from the rehab center. Mycroft hadn’t said a word when Siger had told him they wanted to take care of Sherlock this time, wanted to at least try. Violet had hoped, had thought that coming back home would help her son, but for the past two days, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

“I’m fine,” Sherlock called again. “Let me out!”

Another blow against the door made Violet jump, “No,” she called back, “You’re staying with us.”

“You can’t make me,” Sherlock continued to yell, “I’ll find a way to get out, you know I will!”

Violet opened the door in one harsh movement, finding her son, shaking and hair wild, on the other side. “Now you listen to me William,” she almost yelled back, “if you leave this house, I’ll go and bring you back myself. Do I make myself clear?”

“You can’t-” Sherlock began, taking a step back.

“Oh no, I can and I will,” Violet cut him off, closing the door behind her before forcing Sherlock down his bed. “You’re not leaving this house until I’m certain you will never use drugs again!”

Sherlock was all but shivering now, violent shivers taking over his body, and Violet hurried to help him under the covers. She listened, heart pounding and tears pooling in her eyes, as Sherlock tried to argue again, his sentences less and less coherent.

“Shhh,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “You’re going to be fine, everything’s going to be fine.”

“Can’t make me,” Sherlock mumbled one last time before giving in to his body and falling asleep.

When Siger came home, hours later, Violet still had one hand stroking Sherlock’s hair.

* * *  * *

It took less time than usual for Sherlock to answer his phone, or even answer at all, and Violet didn’t give him the opportunity to talk before she was asking, “Sherlock, I know you don’t like when I call but you said you’d give us some news from time to ti-”

“Sorry,” an unfamiliar voice cut in, “But Sherlock is sleeping right now.”

Violet swallowed back her surprise, “Sleeping?”

“Yes,” the man replied, “Should I leave a message?”

“Oh, yes, sure. Tell him his mother called,” Violet could only say, still trying to understand what was happening.

“So he does have a mother,” the man said, and it wasn’t difficult to hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course he does,” Violet replied, finding herself smiling too. She hesitated for a few seconds before finally asking, “And who are you?”

“Oh, yes, sorry, I’m John, Sherlock’s roommate.”

“His roommate?” Violet frowned.

“I guess he didn’t tell you about it, then,” John joked, laughing softly.

“When does he ever tell me anything,” Violet sighed, already liking this John, and wondering once more how Sherlock had ever managed to find a roommate.

“I get that entirely,” John replied, the both of them laughing now. “I’ll tell him to call you as soon as he wakes up.”

“He’s really sleeping?” Violet asked again.

“I know, surprising right?”

“That’s one way to say it, yes!”

John chuckled again as he said, “We had a pretty tough case these past few days, so not that surprising after all.”

Violet smiled, somehow wanting to ask more, so much more, but she only replied with a warm, “It was nice meeting you, John, and please, tell Sherlock to call.”

“I will, but I can’t promise he’ll listen,” John replied. “It was nice to talk to you too, hmm-”

“Violet,” she cut in, “Call me Violet.”

“Alright,” John replied, clearly still smiling, “I’ll pass on the message.”

“Thank you, John.”

For some reason, Violet found herself unable to stop smiling all afternoon.

* * *  * *

**[Sent]     17:43**

I am still waiting for

your reply concerning

Christmas, Sherlock.

 

**[Received]     17:45**

Already told you,

I’m not coming.

 

**[Sent]     17:46**

You did no such thing,

as usual. You already 

Missed last Christmas, 

Sherlock.

 

**[Received]    17:47**

Christmas is boring.

 

**[Sent]     17:49**

Billy, please, your father

and I would love to have

you back home for the 

holiday. Just this once.

 

**[Received]    17:50**

I can’t.

 

**[Sent]     17:52**

Why? Case? Are

you being careful?

 

**[Received]    17:53**

Mummy, stop.

 

**[Sent]     17:54**

I have the right to be

worried. The least you 

can do is tell me why 

you’re avoiding yet 

another Christmas!

 

**[Received]     17:55**

Fine. John insisted

we host our own 

party this year. 

 

**[Sent]     17:57**

Oh, Sherlock.

 

**[Received]     17:57**

Stop.

 

**[Sent]     17:59**

If someone had told

me you’ll be hosting

your own Christmas

party one day, with 

Such a sweetheart as

John, I wouldn’t have 

believed them for a 

second!

 

**[Received]    18:00**

Stop calling him that.

It’s going to be boring,

As every other Christmas.

 

**[Sent]     18:01**

Of course it won’t, Billy,

You’re spending it with

The people you love.

 

**[Received]     18:01**

I said stop.

 

**[Sent]     18:02**

Why weren’t we invited?

I’d love to properly meet

John.

 

**[Received]     18:04**

I’m going to stop

replying now. 

 

**[Sent]     18:05**

Sherlock, stop

being such a child.

 

**[Sent]     18:10**

Sherlock?

 

**[Sent]     18:13**

Have a lovely Christmas,

Billy. 

* * *  * *

The phone rang in the middle of a rainy afternoon. Violet was trying to finish a paragraph on her new project, Siger reading silently next to her, and the ringtone made them both jump with surprise.

“I’ll get it,” Violet said after a moment, saving her draft before standing up. “Oh, it’s masked,” she informed her husband before picking up. “Hello”

“Mummy?”

Violet frowned, recognizing Sherlock and not liking the exhaustion in his  voice, “What is this, Billy?”

Siger looked up at her, knowing all too well she never used this nickname without a good reason. He stood up, walking toward her and she put the phone on speaker.

“I-” Sherlock began before stopping, taking a deep breath. They waited without a word. “I just wanted to let you know that-”

He stopped again, and Violet felt a knot form inside her chest, “Let us know what?”

Another deep breath.

“In the next few days, newspapers are going to say that I killed myself,” Sherlock finally said, and Violet felt her legs give up on her. Siger caught her before she fell, forcing them both down on the sofa.

“Sherlock, what are you talking ab-”

“It won’t be true, Mummy,” Sherlock said quickly, “I’m going to fake my death, I don’t have any other choice.”

“But,” Violet began but found herself unable to formulate any coherent thoughts anymore.

“Billy,” Siger intervened, “Are you certain there’s nothing else you can do?”

“No Dad, trust me when I say I’ve looked for every possible options.”

Violet took her husband’s hand, clenching hard, “Why?”

“I have a good reason, I swear, but I can’t talk about it. I won’t be able to call afterward, I’m calling from a secured phone right now.”

“But you’ll be safe, right?” Siger asked before Violet could.

“I’ll try,” Sherlock replied, and Violet could tell he was only trying to reassure them. “I promise to try. But you can’t talk about this to anyone, understand? No one can know I’m alive.”

“Yes, Billy,” Siger sighed, “Of course.”

It took another minute before Violet felt her heart sink, “But, what about John?”

Sherlock didn’t reply.

“Does he know?” She asked, hands now shaking. “Sherlock, does he know?”

“I have to go,” Sherlock finally said, his voice barely a whisper through the phone.

“You have to tell him, Sherlock, he’s going to be dev-” The line went dead before Violet could finish, tears starting to fall down her cheeks.

* * *  * *

Violet woke up with a startle in the middle of the night. She was certain she had just heard the front door opening, and for a second, she remained frozen in bed. She already had three different scenarios running through her head, all of them involving a defense weapon within her room, but before she could decide on one, she recognized the heavy steps on the stairs.

A shiver taking over her entire body, she got out of bed and practically ran to the door. She hadn’t seen Sherlock since his return, a month ago, and a rush of panic took over her as she watched him approach.

“Sherlock,” she said in a breath, hands shaking as she took in the state of her son’s clothes and face. “Sherlock, what are you-”

Sherlock all but fell to the floor, his body shaking violently and Violet was kneeling next to him as fast as she could manage. God, what was happening. “Sherlock,” she breathed out, trying to hold him but Sherlock pushed her away harshly. Violet brought one hand to her mouth, watching in horror as her son began to lie down on the floor, still shaking. “Sherlock,” she tried again, not reaching for him this time, “Billy, sweetheart, let me help you.”

Sherlock let out a whimper, a broken sound that made Violet’s chest ache, and she tentatively placed a hand on his back, stroking softly when Sherlock didn’t seem to react. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him like this, not for decades. Not since he was a child, haunted by cruel nightmares. She had thought it was over now, that Sherlock had learned to control them just like everything else.

“Mummy,” Sherlock called, voice full of tears, “make it stop.”

“I’m here, Billy, I’m right here,” Violet said again and again, slowly getting closer to him until she could wrap herself around him. “I’m right here.” Sherlock all but winced, pulling away again as Violet began to stroke his back. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She made sure to avoid his back as she continued to whisper to him, trying to not think about the reason Sherlock was in pain.

“I’m going to take care of you,” she promised in a breath.

* * *  * *

Violet rolled her eyes once more as Mycroft put his computer on the kitchen table, “Don’t you have a room,” she asked, “with a desk?”

“I certainly do,” Mycroft replied, already typing an email and Violet averted her eyes. She really didn’t need to read anything confidential and have to sign another clause of confidentiality. She had learned her lesson.

“He’s simply too lazy to climb the stairs,” Sherlock remarked from where he was sitting, earning a rather deathly glare from his brother.

“Don’t start, you two,” Violet smiled before heading for the door. “When I come back, I expect to have to both of you ready to help me set up the table.”

“As if that’s ever going to happ-”

She closed the door before Sherlock could finish, knowing all too well both of her sons would have disappeared from the kitchen by the time she came back. Shaking her head but still smiling, Violet went to search for the herbs she needed for her meal. She hadn’t expected Sherlock to ask if he could come for Christmas, and certainly not with John and his wife. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Mary, but there was something about that woman’s smile that made Violet feel uncomfortable.

“Violet,” came a voice to her right, and Violet jumped with surprise, a hand closed over her heart. “Sorry,” John smiled, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s alright,” Violet smiled, kneeling down by her garden. “What are you doing outside?”

“Just needed some fresh air,” John replied, looking away.

“Some freezing air, you mean,” Violet replied, earning a small laugh from him. “Where is Mary?”

“The living room, I think.”

They remained silent for a long moment, Violet collecting her herbs and pretending not to notice the way John clenched and unclenched his fist. “Can you take these,” she asked, handing him some herbs, and John hurried to take them. “Thank you, dear.”

Standing up with a sigh, Violet allowed herself a moment to look at the landscape around them. She had wanted to talk to John ever since they had arrived, but now, she wasn’t so sure about it. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but somehow, all of them either seemed too harsh or not enough.

“Violet,” John began, forcing her to look back at him. John looked down at the ground before raising his head again, eyes fixed on hers. “The person who did this to Sherlock,” he said, sounding much more serious all the sudden. “I’m going to make them pay for it.”

Violet smiled, “I know you will. Sherlock is very lucky to have you.”

John stared at her for long seconds, not saying a word, before nodding quickly. “I should head back inside,” he said, clearing his throat. “Go check on Mary.”

“Of course, dear,” Violet replied, “Let’s go celebrate Christmas.”

* * *  * *

“Violet, stop fidgeting,” Siger whispered next to her, both of them sitting on the sofa.

“I can’t,” Violet sighed, “after everything that happened, after Mary and that dreadful business in London, I just can’t.”

Siger smiled at her, putting down his book, “They’re fine.”

Violet shook her head, “I know they are, but even you can’t deny that this surprise visit is hiding something!”

Siger laughed, kissing her cheek and Violet leant into the touch, “I think they’re finally-” The sound of a car approaching made her stop and she rose to her feet in less than a second. “They’re here.”

Siger stood up, placing a careful hand on her shoulder, “Don’t overthink it or he’ll notice.”

Violet rolled her eyes, “He knows me,” she remarked, and headed for the front door quickly. She opened it just in time to see John get out of the car, quickly followed by Sherlock. “We were expecting you sooner,” she called, walking toward them, and bringing Sherlock down into a hug.

“Traffic,” Sherlock muttered, allowing her to keep him in her arms for a few seconds.

“I’m happy you’ve decided to visit,” she whispered before letting go just as John joined them with their suitcases. “Oh John, hello.”

She hugged him before John could move, and she felt him laugh as he said, “Hello Violet.”

“Come inside, come inside,” she said, pulling away and forcing herself not to stare. Still, she didn’t miss Sherlock’s smile as he glanced at John. “Your father is waiting.”

Violet lasted exactly twenty-three minutes before Sherlock finally sighed, “You’ve got questions.”

“Of course I have questions,” Violet exclaimed, shaking her head. “You can’t expect me to just sit and wait, Sherlock.”

John laughed next to her, and even Siger let out a soft chuckle as Sherlock sat in one of the chairs in their living room, “Go ahead.”

Violet considered her first question carefully, “Why have you decided to come here all the sudden?”

“John wanted to come,” Sherlock replied immediately.

Violet turned to John right away, “Really? Why?”

“I thought we agreed you were the one telling them,” John sighed, still smiling.

“Telling us what?” Violet asked, looking back at Sherlock after John shrugged at her. “Billy, telling us what?”

“Don’t you already know?” Sherlock asked, a grin on his lips.

Violet barely contained her joy as she said, “Doesn’t mean I don’t need to hear it from you.”

“Come on, Sherlock,” Siger intervened, “She’s been talking about it ever since you called yesterday.”

Violet glared at him, but quickly looked back at Sherlock as he stood up and went to sit next to John on the sofa, “Mummy,” he said, “We came because John said you’re supposed to tell your parents when you’re dating someone. I have to say, I’m not sure that’s actually an obligati-”

“Oh Sherlock!” Violet cut in, barely restraining herself from hugging them once more, “That’s amazing news.” Sherlock rolled his eyes but took John’s hand in his, a faint blush on his cheeks, and Violet felt her chest expand with love. “I always knew you two were meant for each other, from the very start I told you father and he didn-”

“Violet, dear,” Siger stopped her, “I think they got it.”

Violet nodded vigorously, “Yes, yes, sorry.”

She listened, tears pooling in her eyes and lips stretched into a wide smile, as John started to tell them all the trouble he went through convincing Sherlock to come here today. Violet kept her eyes fixed on Sherlock,  _ her little William _ , smiling and apparently unable to look away from John, and thought  _ it’s about time. _

* * *  * *

Another song ended, and Violet made her way to the dance floor quickly. Sherlock and John were still glued to each other, John’s head thrown back as he laughed while Sherlock murmured something in his ear. For a moment Violet considered letting them linger in that warm bubble of happiness for another song, but Sherlock’s eyes caught hers, and she smiled at him.

“Mummy,” he smiled back when she was close enough, “Everything’s alright?”

“Yes, everything’s perfect.” She looked at John, “I was just wondering if I could have a dance with my son?”

“Yes, of course,” John replied with a warm smile, pulling Sherlock in for a kiss before looking back at her. “He told me you’re the one who taught him how to dance, right?”

“A long time ago, yes,” Violet laughed, “I wasn’t sure he was paying attention back then.”

“Of course I was,” Sherlock replied, “I’m always paying attention to everything!” Both Violet and John started to laugh, and Sherlock frowned at them, “I am.”

“Sure you are, love,” John smiled before kissing him again. Violet looked at the couples dancing around them, waiting, before John pulled back. “He’s all yours. I needed a break anyway.”

“No you didn’t, husband,” Sherlock said with a smile.

“No I didn’t, husband,” John said, grinning, before walking away.

Sherlock welcomed her in his arms, and Violet pressed them closer, breathing him in. “I’m so happy for you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock squeezed her and for a moment, they danced in silence. The wedding had been simple, cozy, and absolutely perfect. Violet had hope, many years ago, for a day like this one. For both her sons, but over the years, had learned not to expect too much. But this,  _ today _ , had surpassed all of her expectations.

“I told you I would find him,” Sherlock said all of the sudden, his voice barely a murmur in her ear, and Violet smiled.

“I never doubted it, Billy,” she whispered back, “not for a second.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comment are really appreciated :)
> 
> [I do fic commission now](http://johnlockfulfillment.tumblr.com/tagged/fic-commission)


End file.
